


i can't give you anything (but love)

by everdeen



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, and i also think jamie as a cat burglar? is incredibly sexy, dani: are you robbing me? jamie: yes. dani: ok. would you like a cup of tea?, i am passionate about dani clayton not dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everdeen/pseuds/everdeen
Summary: “This isn’t really how I wanted this to go,” she said.“Yeah,” Dani said, “I got that.”“I didn’t think anyone was home.”“Uh-huh,” said Dani.“I also thought I was better at climbing onto window sills than I am,” said the woman after a moment.(One of Dani's windows won't lock. A woman tries to break in to her apartment, but doesn't quite succeed.)
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 29
Kudos: 428





	i can't give you anything (but love)

**Author's Note:**

> based off of a prompt in [this tumblr post](https://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/post/112392287541). i love these two characters very much and as such have enjoyed putting them in this highly improbable scenario.
> 
> title taken from jimmy mchugh/dorothy fields's "i can't give you anything but love, baby". there are many versions but i privately believe that ella fitzgerald's 1957 version live at zardi's is the best.

_‘I know we’ve just met but I feel like maybe_

_you’d feed me and tuck me into your big bed_

_and only touch me as you covered me with the comforter._

_I feel like you own a comforter.’_

**Kim Addonizio, ‘Party’ (2014)**

* * *

Dani kept forgetting to call her landlord. 

That was, in retrospect, what started the whole thing. She’d just moved into her new apartment. It was too small and smelled slightly weird sometimes and was everything she’d ever dreamed of. She’d spent days decorating it. She wasn’t allowed to do things like put nails in the wall or paint over the ugly shade of puce in the bathroom, but she put up photos of her family and lay her blanket out on the overstuffed sofa and felt like the space was, improbably, hers. 

She was too ecstatic about this to worry about the things that she really should have, practically speaking. The apartment block was in a too-noisy, rough part of London, a city which by all accounts always felt too-noisy and rough to Dani, who had very recently moved there from a small town in Iowa where everyone knew everyone else and nothing in particular ever happened. Worse, her landlord was indifferent about everything; leaks, spare keys, and even mould seemed to him to be things that were not worth his time and only had to be dealt with immediately if his tenants were threatening legal action. And, most crucially, one of the windows that faced out onto the street did not lock. So, after the first call, when her landlord’s indifference became apparent to Dani, she resolved to call again, and keep calling, until the window was fixed. But things got in the way and she forgot. And it was, tangentially, because of this that Dani met Jamie late on a Thursday night.

She’d had an exhausting day. The kids at school had been the kind of difficult and hyper that meant their screeching was still ringing in her ears hours after she’d left work. She was in the middle of pouring herself a large glass of red wine when she heard a strange thump coming from the bedroom. 

“Um?” she let out, almost by accident. She was met with silence apart from the sounds of the street outside. “Okay,” she said to herself. “Not...creepy. At all.” 

She took a gulp of the wine she had poured for herself. She listened to the sound of a passing ambulance. She pressed her fingers up against the cool counter and had just about calmed herself down when there was another thump. Dani turned around to face the bedroom door, which was only slightly ajar.

“Hello?” she called out, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. No reply. She took a few uncertain steps towards the bedroom, then thought better of it and turned back to the kitchen to cast around for an item to brandish in self-defence. She briefly considered the knife before deciding that it was too dangerous and maybe a slight overreaction. The wooden spoon she’d used whilst cooking dinner was the opposite. She settled for the salt cellar in the cupboard, which she guessed would cause significant damage if thrown hard enough. Armed with this in one hand and her wine glass in the other, she approached the bedroom with trepidation. 

“Okay, Dani,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this. No one is actually there. You’re probably just hearing things. It’s okay. You can do this.” She continued with this recitation as she pushed the door enough to let herself in. It swung open. She inched forward and noted with no little amount of relief that it was empty. Everything looked the same as it had that morning. 

“Okay, so the only problem now is that I’m hearing things,” Dani said to the room. “That’s fine.”

She was just turning to leave the room, already thinking about topping up her wine glass and maybe putting on a stupid sitcom that didn’t make her feel like the ill-fated protagonist in some kind of horror movie, when there was another thump. She whipped round, clenching one hand around the salt cellar and the other around the stem of the wine glass.

“If you’re a ghost,” she started, “I am so, so tired. And I think you would get a better reaction out of me if you came back tomorrow.” 

From the vague direction of the window there came a sound of muffled discomfort. Dani started in surprise and the wine in her glass sloshed slightly. She took two steps towards the window and promptly noticed two things she hadn’t noticed before. The first was that it was open. The second was that there were ten fingers clinging onto the window sill. 

Suddenly, a forehead popped over the window sill and into view. 

“Oh my God!” Dani screeched. “Fuck!” She threw the salt cellar in the vague direction of the forehead, and it made contact with a dull thud. 

“Ow,” came a disembodied voice from the window. “Fucking hell, that hurt.”

“Sorry!” Dani said on instinct, before realising she was apologising for acting in self-defence against someone clearly attempting to invade her home. “Wait! No! I’m not sorry!”

“Okay,” said the voice, which sounded very strained. “Fair enough.” 

Dani moved very slowly closer. “Are you trying to break into my house?” she asked in as even a tone as she could manage, which wasn’t very. 

“Looks like it,” said the voice. There was a pause. The fingers readjusted themselves slightly on the window sill. 

Dani hesitated for a second as she tried to decide how best to proceed. “Could you go away, then, please?” she asked, deciding that politeness had the potential to be effective in a country where people acted like skipping ahead in the queue for anything was a crime equivalent to first-degree murder. 

“At this stage,” the voice said, “I would love to. But I’m a bit stuck.”

Dani realised belatedly that the voice belonged to a woman. It was probably for this reason -- as well as the fact that whoever it was sounded more tired than sinister — that she found the confidence to walk all the way up to the window and peer out of it. She was met by a mass of curly brown hair and shockingly bright eyes looking back at her. 

“Hi,” said the woman. 

“Hi,” said Dani, who was not very skilled at talking intelligently to beautiful women, even ones who were trying to rob her. 

“I think your salt cellar is broken,” the woman said with a very quick glance down at the ground. “I heard it smash. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dani said. 

“This isn’t really how I wanted this to go,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Dani said, “I got that.” 

“I didn’t think anyone was home.”

“Uh-huh,” said Dani. 

“I also thought I was better at climbing onto window sills than I am,” said the woman after a moment. 

Dani glanced past her would-be burglar’s frame at the ground, which admittedly did seem far away, even though her apartment was only on the second floor. “How did you get up here?” she asked.

“Climbed up.”

“And you can’t just...climb down?” 

“I would,” said the woman. “But I think I have a concussion.”

“Oh,” Dani said. She noticed for the first time that there was a cut on her forehead, probably from where the salt cellar had hit her. 

“Yep,” said the woman with a wince. She shifted her balance again. Dani looked down and saw her feet dangling against the side of the building. She wasn’t particularly scared of heights but the sight still made her feel slightly sick. 

“Look,” said the woman. “Totally understand if not, but if there’s a chance that you could…”

“Oh,” Dani said again. She would normally feel bad about the way her vocabulary had narrowed to mostly monosyllables, but then again, she felt like in her situation it was warranted. “You want me to…”

“I won’t rob you,” the woman said, now through gritted teeth as she focused very hard on not falling off the window sill. “Promise.”

Realistically, this promise meant very little, and the sensible thing to do was not just to leave the woman dangling from her window sill but probably to actively push her off of it. But Dani spent five days a week taking care of small children, and as such her sense of empathy was often disproportionate to her grasp of logic. This time spent interacting with children also meant she held promises in unreasonably high regard. 

“Fine,” she said, placing her wine glass on the chest of drawers nearby. “But you have to promise.”

“I do,” said the woman. “But if I could get a hand sooner rather than later —” 

Dani reached her hand out of the window and took a hold of the woman’s wrist. It was warm under her skin. “Okay,” she said, grabbing her other wrist as well. “I got you. Can you push yourself —”

“Yeah,” the woman managed to get out. “Let me just —” 

She pushed herself up slightly, and in the same quick movement readjusted her arms so that Dani was gripping her hands and not her wrists.

“Could you —” the woman said, each word a monumental effort.

Dani got her drift and tugged as hard as she could. The woman’s body came through the open window at full tilt. She wasn’t expecting the weight and ended up falling backwards onto the carpet. The woman tumbled in after her, landing heavily on her body with a hard _oof_.

“Ow,” Dani said. 

“Sorry,” she said, her voice still laboured. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Dani said. The woman, now that her full body was in view, was a lot smaller than she’d first thought. She wasn’t dressed how Dani would expect a burglar to dress. She was wearing a very worn t-shirt with a picture of a woman that she didn’t recognise on it and a pair of too-large jeans. She was also staring at Dani curiously, in a way that made her face flush. 

“Um,” Dani said. 

“Right,” the woman said abruptly, in a similarly flustered tone, and sprung up as quickly as she could. They both stood there for a moment, staring at each other from opposite sides of Dani’s bedroom. 

“Well,” the woman said at last. “Thanks. For that.” 

“Yeah, no worries,” Dani said awkwardly. 

“You should probably get your window locks fixed,” the woman suggested. 

“I figured,” Dani agreed. She noticed that the cut on the woman’s forehead had opened up into more of a gash. Blood oozed slightly out of it and into her eyebrow. “Oh,” Dani said, with a slight wince of sympathy. “Your…”

“Hm?” said the woman. Dani nodded in the vague direction of her forehead and she reached a hand up to the cut, pulling it away and looking at the blood on her fingers in slight surprise. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” said Dani. “Do you, um, want a band-aid?”

“I should probably…”

“I mean, you’re here now,” Dani said. “And honestly, I feel kinda bad, so…”

“You feel bad,” the woman repeated flatly. 

“I did cause you bodily harm.”

“Because I was…” she trailed off and glanced at the window. 

“Well, that’s true,” Dani said. “But, I mean…” She couldn’t find a way to say exactly what she meant, which was that she felt bad about injuring someone who was actually really very pretty, and that, apart from that, she felt, very unreasonably, like she’d known this person her whole life. 

“Okay,” said the woman, as if she knew exactly what Dani was thinking. “I also am currently seeing two of you, so maybe a plaster would be good.”

“Ah,” Dani replied. “That doesn’t sound good. Well, um, the band-aids are in the kitchen. So.” Here she paused and glanced meaningfully at the door. She was at least sensible enough not to leave a would-be cat burglar alone in her bedroom, good looks or not. 

“Thanks,” the woman said, moving towards the door. 

They went out into the hallway and through to the kitchen. Dani tried very hard not to panic or think too hard about the fact that there was a complete stranger with intentions that she knew not to be particularly good in her home. 

“Here,” she said, going to the medicine cabinet and opening a first aid kit. She held out a plaster to the woman, and said, without really knowing why: “I’m Dani.”

The woman took the band-aid carefully, looking at Dani with her mouth lifted up slightly in a smile of greeting. “Jamie,” she said. 

“Should you really be telling me your name?” Dani asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I dunno,” Jamie said. “Should you be inviting me into your house and giving me first aid?”

“That’s a good point,” she admitted. They stood awkwardly again as Jamie started peeling at the band-aid. Dani watched her try and fail to do it at least three times before blurting out: “Here. Let me, uh...” 

She took a few unsteady steps in Jamie’s direction, then, before she could second guess herself, took the band-aid from her, peeled off the protective layer, and placed it over the cut on Jamie’s head.

“Sorry,” she said at the reflexive wince that Jamie let out when she smoothed the plaster over slightly. 

“S’okay,” said Jamie. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dani said. Her hands were lingering slightly too long on Jamie’s head. It wasn’t even that the forehead was a particularly erogenous zone — not as far as Dani knew, anyway — but at the direct contact of their skin she felt suddenly very warm and also a little confused. She stepped away and cleared her throat. 

“Would you like a drink?” she asked, more out of instinct than anything. “I mean, probably not alcohol, if you’ve got a concussion. But I’ve got tea. And I’ve got water, too.” She said all the words a little too fast and could practically hear them crashing into each other. Jamie didn’t seem to mind, however. 

“Water?” she replied. “Now that is a treat.” Her mouth ticked upwards again. She smiled in a way that Dani couldn’t quite figure out — like she often found humour in things but wasn’t very used to expressing it. 

“Yeah, well,” Dani said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I only offer the best for my potential burglars.”

“I’m honoured,” Jamie said. “Really.” Her tone was warm. Dani liked the way she spoke. 

“I can get you some aspirin, as well, if your head hurts.”

Jamie frowned in confusion. “Some what now?”

“Oh,” Dani said. “Painkillers, I mean.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m not used to,” Jamie paused briefly, then continued with what Dani imagined was a hint of distaste, “Americanisms.” 

“I’m not used to Britishisms,” Dani said. 

“Really?”

“I just moved here,” she explained, turning back to the kitchen cupboards and taking a glass out of one before filling it up with water. 

“From America?”

“Yep. Would you like some tea as well?”

“Sure. Why on earth would you do that?”

“Make tea?”

“Move to this shithole.”

“Oh,” Dani said. “Well, I happen to quite like it, actually. And you say that like America is much better.” She handed Jamie the glass and two small pills. “You should probably sit down. I don’t think standing up is great for a concussion.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie said, and deposited herself delicately on one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table, before tossing the painkillers back with a gulp of water. Dani stared at the way the column of her throat moved before blinking and turning back to the kettle and grabbing it to fill it up.

“So you just upped and moved here?” Jamie asked, oblivious to the thoughts bouncing around Dani’s brain at rapid speed. 

“Pretty much,” Dani said. “How d’you take it?”

“Milk, no sugar,” Jamie said. “You don’t know anyone here?”

“I’ve got a couple of work friends,” she said, turning around to lean against the kitchen counter and study Jamie. “Why, you trying to figure out how easy it would be to come back and finish the job?”

Jamie had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said. She looked like she meant it. 

“It’s fine,” Dani said, mostly on instinct. “I mean, it’s not,” she amended. “But you don’t really seem like you’re evil or anything, so.”

“Are all burglars evil?” Jamie asked, raising her eyebrow. 

“That’s a big question,” Dani replied. “Are you evil?”

“That’s also a big question.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She felt uncharacteristically bold. “I figure you owe me a big one.”

“Probably,” Jamie said. She paused. “I don’t think I’m evil.”

“That’s a good start.” 

“Sometimes I think I’m a terrible person, though.”

Dani studied Jamie for a moment and realised that this had been said very sincerely, possibly more sincerely than the speaker had meant for it to be. “Don’t we all?” she said.

“I s’pose so,” Jamie said. “But I’m the burglar here, not you.”

“It’s all relative, I think,” Dani replied. She heard the kettle click off and turned to pour the tea. “Here,” she said once she was done, moving to join Jamie at the table and placing her mug in front of her.

“Thanks,” Jamie said, curling her hand around the mug. “This is a really weird evening.”

“You’re telling me,” Dani said, unable to help herself from letting out a laugh. When she did, Jamie gave her a strange, careful look.

“You’re really nice,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“It’s really weird.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t work out if it’s because you’re American or you’re just like this.”

“Probably a bit of both,” Dani said. “I’ve been told that I’m too nice before.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said. She took a sip of her tea, then grimaced and promptly spat it back out into the mug. “Wow,” she said, staring at the cup in disgust.

“I’m working on the tea thing,” Dani said, making a face.

“Yeah,” Jamie said with a snort. “I’m sorry to say that you’ve got a long way to go.”

“I can make you a cup of coffee instead, if you want,” she offered. Jamie’s eyebrows jumped upwards.

“No, thank you,” she said with barely concealed panic. “I’m not sure you should be trusted to make anything that involves boiled water.”

“Wow,” Dani said, trying to sound annoyed but unable to get the tone right through the way she was grinning. “You really don’t hold back with criticism, huh?”

“Not when it comes to tea,” Jamie said with a shrug that very clearly communicated that she felt this was a perfectly reasonable stance to take in life.

“Okay,” Dani said. “So how come you were trying to rob my apartment?”

She watched as Jamie blushed and found that she liked it. “Well,” Jamie said. “That’s a long story.”

Dani shrugged. “You’re here now,” she said.

“If I’m honest,” Jamie replied, “I’m absolutely broke.”

Dani didn’t say anything. She felt like Jamie was saying things she didn’t usually say aloud, and that if she were to speak, Jamie would remember where she was and who she was talking to, and their fragile air of confidence would be shattered.

“That’s kind of it,” Jamie said, clearly noticing that Dani was preparing to listen deeply to her. “Not much to warrant a sympathy vote, is it?” she said in a derisive tone of voice.

“I think it is,” Dani said. She didn’t know what it was like to be completely broke, but she knew what it was like to come close. She could remember days when she lived with her mother and opened the kitchen cupboards to find that they were full of spirits and no food. She could remember the way it made her stomach fall through itself and into her legs with panic.

“I have a little brother, too?” Jamie said, her voice going upwards slightly and making it sound like she wasn’t sure if she did have a little brother or not. She paused, her face twisting into itself, and then added in a very quiet voice: “I wanted to get him something for Christmas.”

Dani looked at Jamie, who was tracing the curves of the wooden table surface with her eyes studiously to avoid her gaze. They sat there in very soft silence. Dani realised with a shock that it was almost familiar.

“How’s your head?” she asked at last. She didn’t like having to break the silence and her voice ended up coming out as an almost-whisper.

“It’s okay,” Jamie said. “It’s not that bad, to be honest.”

“I thought you were seeing two of me,” Dani said, raising her eyebrows.

Jamie gave her a crooked sort of smile that Dani was sure had been tried and tested on many women before her. “If only,” she said.

“That was very smooth,” Dani observed. “Do you often break into women’s houses and then flirt with them?”

“I can very sincerely say that this is a first for me,” Jamie replied.

“I feel so special.”

“So you should.” Jamie looked back at the table again, but this time it seemed more coy than uncomfortable. “I’m not used to robbing beautiful women.”

Dani let out a snicker. “I don’t think that’s true at all,” she said. “But I appreciate your attempts at modesty.”

“What about you?” Jamie asked.

“What about me?”

“Are you used to letting women into your house at odd hours of the night?”

Dani looked down at her cup of tea. “Not really,” she said. “I don’t make a habit of it.”

“I don’t make a habit of burglary,” Jamie said. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Makes me feel better about what?”

“The fact that I’m sitting in your kitchen and you made me a cup of tea and nursed me back to health from my concussion?”

“The concussion,” Dani said, “I gave it to you.”

“You did,” Jamie said in a thoughtful sort of voice that had a hint of heat underneath it, as if she was thinking about other things that Dani could give her. Dani took a gulp of tea for lack of anything else to do. It still hadn’t cooled very much and ended up scalding her throat on the way down.

“I want to say that this is weird again,” Dani said after a moment. “But I already said that.”

“You can say it again. I would be insulted if the novelty had worn off so quickly.”

“So, for the sake of your ego —?”

“Yes, exactly,” Jamie said, cocking her head. “For the sake of my ego.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Are you running out of ways to host me?”

“Yes,” Dani said honestly. “And I don’t want you to leave yet.”

Jamie grinned. “You are too much,” she said.

“Am I?”

“Yes. It’s very American of you.”

“Thank you. I’m also worried about your concussion. You’re meant to have someone watch you for at least twelve hours afterward.”

“Are you?” Jamie asked. She sounded like she was at least half-interested in this fact, though perhaps only because of the suggestion that lay behind it.

“Yes,” Dani said. “I know because I took a first aid course.”

Jamie leaned back and looked at her. “That’s very practical of you,” she said.

“I’m a fourth-grade teacher,” she replied, mostly by way of explanation, but it also felt nice to share this information about herself. She’d spent most of her time in London with people from work who already knew, and as such hadn’t yet had the opportunity to introduce herself in such a way. Dani loved that it was a noun; that she didn’t just teach, but that she was a teacher; that it was a part of who she was.

“Bloody hell,” Jamie said. “I feel even worse now.”

“For the attempted burglary?”

“Yes. For the attempted burglary of someone who’s spent a whole day dealing with small children and then had to come home to me being a liability on her window sill.”

“They’re not that small,” Dani said, a little absently, distracted by the way Jamie’s face was lit in the dim light of the kitchen. “And you weren’t that bad.”

“I was,” Jamie said. “It probably would have been better if I’d just robbed you and buggered off.”

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” Dani said before she could think better of it.

Jamie stared at her. “Now _I_ want to say that this is weird,” she said after a while.

Dani felt herself blush before she could help herself. “Because I made it weird?”

“No,” Jamie said. “Because this has been the nicest evening I’ve had in a while.”

Dani found herself agreeing. This was bizarre to her and surprisingly easy to do, like riding a bike once you get the hang of it, or going on a run for the first time. Since leaving Iowa she’d been dogged by a strange feeling of suspense. It was as though she were at a bus stop and waiting for the right bus to arrive so that she could continue on with her journey. She wasn’t sure exactly where or how Jamie fit into this sensation but she did get the overwhelming feeling that she did.

She couldn’t say any of this. Mostly because she didn’t have the words but also because she wasn’t so brave as to think it wouldn’t terrify Jamie, who Dani suspected was averse to such confessions, even if they didn’t come from someone who she’d known for one evening.

Instead, she glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and said: “It’s getting late.”

“Right,” Jamie said, beginning to stand up. The brightness in her eyes was dimming slightly. “I bet you have school early tomorrow.”

“I do,” Dani said, still sat down and watching as Jamie rocked onto her heels awkwardly. She bit her lip in hesitation, then said: “You still have a concussion.”

“Um,” Jamie said.

“My couch is comfortable,” Dani continued before she could lose her nerve. “Maybe tomorrow I could make you breakfast.”

Jamie looked at her carefully. After what felt like hours to Dani, she asked: “Is your cooking as bad as your tea-making?”

Dani let out a breath with enough relief that it could be classed as a laugh. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I think you’ll have to be the judge.”

“Okay,” said Jamie.

“Okay,” Dani said. She stood up and walked to the living room, which was not really a separate room, but just an extension of the kitchen space with a rug and a couch in it, in front of the cheapest television Dani had found. “I’ve got a spare blanket and some pillows,” she said. “Let me get them.”

“You’re…” Jamie said, then trailed off and swallowed. “You know I could just leave right now, right? I could steal your shit, even. I could rob you blind.”

“You could,” Dani said, trying to sound nonchalant even though she had also considered this possibility.

“So…”

“You could,” Dani repeated, before leaving the room. She went to the bedroom. She placed her forehead against the cool wallpaper. She wondered what in the hell she thought she was doing. Then she grabbed a pillow and some cushions from the cupboard and went back to the living room.

Jamie was still there. She was rubbing one arm with her opposite hand, and frowning thoughtfully at the tiny bookshelf in the corner of the room, which was mostly crammed full of books Dani had collected in college and at second-hand bookshops and hadn’t been able to talk herself out of bringing with her across the Atlantic.

“Here,” Dani said. “You can use this blanket. Sorry I don’t have another comforter.”

“Comforter?” Jamie repeated with a frown. Then, with comprehension: “Oh. A duvet.”

“Right,” Dani said. “Is this going to be a thing, correcting my American language?”

“Absolutely,” Jamie informed her. “It’s criminal, the names you have for things.”

“Don’t talk to me about criminal,” Dani said.

Jamie let out a laugh that sounded slightly shocked, as though she were surprised at herself for making the sound. “You make a strong point,” she said, taking the pillow out of Dani’s arms. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,”Dani said, staring at the space where their hands had, very briefly, touched. “See you in the morning?”

“I think so,” Jamie said. “I need to assess your breakfasting skills.”

“Okay,” Dani said, stepping away and releasing a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“Good night,” Jamie said. She made it sound like a promise. Dani wondered if she was going crazy.

“Good night,” she said. She hoped it didn’t sound like a question. She hoped it didn’t sound like she was desperate for her to stay. She hoped it did.

Dani woke up before her alarm went off, due to a sound of clattering from her kitchen, which was followed by a curse that was muttered in a low voice. She panicked, momentarily, before her memory came back to her. When it did, she suddenly couldn’t stop smiling. She rubbed a hand over her face before getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen. Jamie was standing there in the same crumpled clothes she’d been wearing the night before, glaring at her stove.

“Hi,” Dani said.

Jamie dropped the spatula she was holding in surprise. “Christ,” she said.

“Dani, actually,” Dani said.

“Pleasure to meet you, Dani,” Jamie said. “I’m Jamie.”

“Are you making eggs?” Dani asked, glancing at the stove.

“Trying to.”

“What’s the long game here?”

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” Jamie said, “but I think we have established by now that I have little to no understanding of American slang.”

“What’s your long-term strategy?” Dani translated.

“No strategy,” Jamie said, turning to look at Dani properly. “Just eggs.”

“Okay.” Dani took a few more steps to close the distance between them. When she stopped, Jamie’s shirt was brushing against her pyjama top. Still they were too far apart. She felt more than heard Jamie’s intake of breath. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, distracted. “Your sofa is comfortable.”

“I think so too,” Dani said. “Would it be okay if —“

“Yes,” Jamie interrupted.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say,” Dani said with a smile.

“Yes, I did,” Jamie replied, and kissed her. The eggs burned on the stove. They didn’t notice until the smoke alarm went off.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel very strongly about dani clayton. i also take prompts. you can find me on tumblr, @denouements. 
> 
> if you liked it, let me know, if you like.


End file.
